


As you shiver, count up all your mistakes

by emmyeccentric



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmyeccentric/pseuds/emmyeccentric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m not a fool. This whole issue must be handled gingerly. Now that Leopold is rotting away, and there will be questions…allegations. I’m not risking everything I’ve built."</p><p> </p><p>***ABANDONED***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I just can’t seem to-,” the maid hesitated and attempted to yank the laces of the bodice closed, but the garment wouldn’t give. Regina let out resigned sigh, and slid the dress off of her body, leaving her in a loose petticoat.

    “Fiona, just take it to the tailor with the other two. You’re dismissed,” she ordered, while studying her reflection in the full- length mirror before her.

    “Yes, your Majesty.” The small blonde gave a stiff curtsy and lifted the pile, her tiny frame engulfed by yards of silk and velvet.

    The woman gave another nod and darted out of the large wooden doors.  
Regina turned toward her side, still looking at herself, splaying her palms against the lower portion of her midsection. It was beginning to curve slightly, but this difference was unnoticeable to anyone but the Queen herself. Even so, clothing still refused to fit and Regina nearly always felt as if she had been tied to a spinning water wheel.

   She was jolted out of her self-perusal by a proud and all-knowing voice in the mirror she was peering into.

   “Your Majesty, your waistline won’t be able to conceal your secret much longer. Are you planning to tell him anytime soon,” the Genie chided her, his words consuming the room.

    “I’m not a fool. This whole issue must be handled gingerly. Now that Leopold is rotting away, and there will be questions…allegations. I’m not risking everything I’ve built.”

    The Genie looked Regina in the eyes candidly. “You’ve got to create some plan to execute; you can’t afford to wait.” Regina’s face turned a shade of sour-apple green, and the Queen flung her body onto the plush purple mountain of her bed to settle down from another wave of dizziness.

     “Just leave me to be. And for Gods' sake, to rest. Go.”

     A whooshing sound settled throughout the room as The Genie’s face faded from the glasses.  
Regina grabbed a small black bell from a chain on her bedside table and rang it five times. She stood up (though on wobbling knees), shook the wrinkles from her petticoat, and filled her lungs with cool, awakening air.

     “Your Majesty, you sent-,’ his hands quickly jolted to his face. “I’m so sorry. I was told that you sent for me. I didn’t mean to intrude on you,” eyes still covered, he waved his free hand up and down Regina’s thin cotton underskirt.

     “Oh don’t flatter yourself. You’ve seen me in much more compromising attire. It’s your only living purpose, actually.” She made his life-or-death imprisonment sound like a simple slap on the wrist, and her wry smirk confirmed the harsh intention of her words. “Sit down, Huntsman.”

     “Is there someone that needs to be taken care of, Your Majesty?” The Hunter’s eyes were glazed over and cold; a far cry from the fear and discomfort killing a man used to give him. But this was just the opposite. This was about making a life, not taking it.

     Regina wondered if he would have the same hardened response.

     She gnawed her lip in anxiety, turning her head away from the inattentive man. She would never let him see her start to crack. She was smarter than that.

     “No, Huntsman. This is something that must be dealt with the utmost care. Your life has never been more fragile, pet.” The Hunter’s eyes took on that familiar fearful wariness; his questions became pleas.

     “Your Majesty, whatever task or target you need me to undertake, I’ll gladly do so. You must know this, Your Majesty.”

     “The deed is already done. Now sit down Huntsman.” Regina spat her words out like poison, and the Hunter’s knees found the edge of the burgundy chaise lounge and he fell into the plush seat.

     “Please, Your Majesty, let me know what I’ve done. Or at least let me know what I will receive as punishment.” He shifted uncomfortably, his long legs twitching and crossing at unnatural angles.

     “I seem to be,” as she paced in front of him, her eyes scanned the floor looking for the right term, “expecting.”

     The Huntsman’s eyes grew wide and took on a deep, shining blue. “You’re,” he paused in an attempt to swallow his distress, “pregnant?” Regina stared icily into the ocean of his eyes, gaze unmoving. The Hunter’s voice dropped multiple octaves, reverberating with anxiety and remorse. “With all due respect, what do you intend to do? This could sink the entire kingdom against you, Your Majesty.”

     “Of course it could. This is just a natural consequence of your actions, my pet. We must be discreet. Your life depends on it, and in my condition, I am temperamental; remember, all it takes it just a little pressure.” She sat on the lounge beside him and flattened a hand where his heart would have been.

     “I’ll take it to my grave, Your Majesty.”

     “Good, because this could mean your grave.”


	2. Chapter 2

            “Tell me, why have I suddenly become a hen in this giant stone coop?” Regina began to twiddle her thumbs on the mahogany of her vanity.

            “Since you began to show, your Majesty.” Regina looked down at her middle, a small swell with seventeen weeks’ time. “The heavy cloaks and capes can only hide so much,” The Genie scolded as he eyed Regina’s form critically.

            “I _know_ that. But no matter,” she lifted herself from the vanity chair, cloak fanning from behind her, “after I talk with that scoundrel, this little problem will be forgotten.”

            “His bargains can be perilous.”

            “I’ve worked with him before. I know his ways. ‘ _All magic comes with a price!’”_ she emphatically waved a finger in the air and whinged her voice, followed by a deep, throaty laugh, “Please. I made bargains with magic before he bartered his first loaf of bread. I can’t believe-,” she paused, eyes frozen and hand darting to her stomach.

            “Is everything alright, your Majesty?” The Genie’s voice wound itself tight with concern.

            After a long moment of silence, The Queen replied. “Everything is fine. I’m just not accustomed to this…girth,” her voice indignant and frustrated. She placed two hands to rest on her middle. She was yanked out of the conversation by a three raps on her door.

            “I don’t recall sending for anyone,” she looked at The Genie quizzically. He simply raised his eyebrows and faded away in response. Regina clutched her cloak close to her body to hide her shape; she had somehow managed to convince her staff that her newly acquired roundness was the consequence of larger meals, not visa versa.

            “Your Majesty, I’m sorry for intruding, I need-“

            “You shouldn’t be at my chambers. What gave you the authority to be so brazen, Huntsman? You’re never a wolf when I need it of you, only when it simply annoys me.”

            “My dearest apologies, your Majesty, but I wanted to talk to you in confidence about the _situation._ ” His eyes shifted to her lower half.

            “Make it quick. Nepotism isn’t a good color on me,” she looked for any lingering guards, and used a hand to usher him in.

            “So how are you feeling, my Queen?”

            “ _Large,_ ” she bit out, “Is there something about the concept of ‘quick’ you can’t quite grasp, Huntsman? Because a certain heart and a balled fist might make it clearer,” the Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but she waved a hand in front of his lips, “Don’t apologize. Just make your point.”

            “Your Majesty, are still planning to settle a deal with Rumpelstiltskin? About the child, I mean.”

            “Yes. I don’t see how any of my _private_ matters are any concern of yours, however, but your discretion has proved strong recently.”

            “So you are going to make a deal, and then the child will be gone? Just like _that_?” his voice tightened suddenly, with an emotion Regina couldn’t quite place. Disappointment?

            “Yes; that’s what will hopefully take place. Tell me Huntsman, why are you so interested?” She drifted not-so-much-closer to him, and showed a face slightly scrunched from concern. At his wandering eyes, Regina’s face became a blank canvas once more.

            “I want to be there. When the deal is struck.” His words were cold and still, and lacked any hint of suggestion.

            “Huntsman, don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat? Or was it the _wolf_? This is none of your affair; get out, before you truly start to irk me.” Regina emphasized her demand with a flick of her wrist, and turned her back.

            “None of your other servants know the truth; I’m the only one who’ll be able to protect you, if that imp pulls any tricks,” he burst out. Regina turned around, making sure she heard him correctly. “And not only you, but… _that._ ” He pointed at her still relatively small belly.

            She walked closer to him; close enough to smell the lye on his skin from his shaving soap. “There’s only a weak thread between confidence and stupidity, and you’re hanging from it with a shaky grip.” She gave him sharp stare, her seething trickling underneath his skin.

            Until it didn’t.

            Regina’s face unexpectedly softened, and her eyes grew unfocused. Both of her hands surrounded her middle.

            “What is it?” The Hunter looked her up and down as if trying to telepathically peel away layers, simply to see what was going on in the Queen’s mind.

            “I can feel it moving,” she mumbled, barely a whisper, with eyes as big as apples, “It’s so strange. Like tiny pulses. It began happening this morning.” The right corner of her mouth began to pull itself up in the faintest illusion of a smile.

It faded as surprisingly as it emerged. She was merely a statue again. Regina’s eyes started to pain the Hunter as before.

            “Alright. You’ve proved yourself enough, pet. You will accompany me tonight. You will not speak. You will not even make your presence known, unless there is imminent danger. And you will not tell a soul, living or dead, or I will damn you to a fate worse than hell.” She dropped to the couch, her stare still stifling him.

            “I understand, your Majesty. I will be at the carriages at midnight. Good day.” The Huntsman bowed, and scurried out of her room, but still in awe of the fluke event that he just witnessed.

            And as the Queen began to rub the small protrusion that was once a wasp and corseted figure, this was no longer a “problem” or a “situation”. There was something growing, and living inside her. Now it felt real.

            The child fluttered within her again, if only as a reminder.

 


	3. Chapter 3

           In the middle of the night, the carriages seemed to melt effortlessly together with the black of the sky.  The only clue that someone was untucked from the warm comfort of their beds was the gleam of the horses’ bits or the occasional whinny. Luckily, the previous was attributed to reflections of light off of scattered puddles. The latter was attributed to an uncomfortable mare experiencing her night-namesake.

            Lantern in hand, wandering determinedly in the forest, Regina felt the pangs of nostalgia in her chest; images of Daniel’s face and late-night escapades of blind teenage lust became clear in her mind. Her fingers drifted to the tarnished gold hanging from her neck. As the baby tested its new limbs again (this seemed to be its new favorite pastime), Regina’s thoughts got the better of her.

            She wondered how much happier she would be if this child were a result of her and Daniel’s love, not of a simple selfish release. Undoubtedly, he would have been a fantastic father. Regina pictured the cheering on of first steps, first riding lessons, and the tears in his eyes when their baby met his or her true love at the end of the aisle. She wiped moist eyes on her cloak.

            Within a few more steps, she saw the Hunter’s frame leaning against a lone black carriage, making minor adjustments to his bow. When he heard the crunching of surrendering leaves underneath The Queen’s feet, he held out a hand.

            “Where are we going, Your Majesty?”

            “He said it was almost six miles down this trail. You should see a fire or a light.” She used the Huntsman’s hand for support as she lifted her new weight into the carriage.  “And hurry. I don’t want him to leave me empty-handed just because we were a few moments past his deadline, the fickle imp” she settled in with both hands on her belly, “You’d think this thing is destined to be some sort of acrobat.” The Huntsman unintentionally let out a giggle; Regina let out one of her most dangerous glances. “Just drive.”

            The Hunter swallowed his emotions, rushed to the front instantly, and took hold of the reins. When the horses began to take on a leisurely pace, he snapped the reins gently to encourage the animals. They began to speed up as expected.

            Within 15 minutes, he could hear heavy breathing from the backseat. He turned around to see a grayish-looking Queen with her head thrown against the seat. He stopped the horses immediately, and heard a pained moan when the carriage thrust forward slightly.

            “You idiot! Why have you stopped?” Nearly panting, she immediately reached for a box on her left side, pulled out a red throbbing muscle, and balled her fist. The Huntsman shouted in pain. Regina’s hand went loose unexpectedly, and the heart rolled back into its home. The Queen began to twist and whine with sickness, adding to the chorus of agony.

            “Why are we still in the middle of the road?! _Go,”_ She managed to rasp out between dizzy spells. The Hunter reached into a small leather bag inside her breast pocket and extended his arm. Inside his hand was a small, pungent leaf.

            “Here, chew on this. It’ll ease your stomach.”

            Even though her face was still ashen, she cocked an eyebrow. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

            “Because you have my life in a box, your Majesty. You’d end me before I had the chance. It’s peppermint. And it’s safe, for both you and the child.”

            She ripped the plant indignantly from his hand and began to gnash her jaw. Her cheeks began to return to their normal dusky hue. “Now, go.”

            The Huntsman shouted, and the horses began to trot intently along the path. It wasn’t much longer before the Queen and her subject saw the tiny pulses of a campfire deep into the woods.

            The Huntsman jumped off of the chariot, and held out his hand once more.

            Once Regina’s feet were on the ground, she grabbed the lantern from inside the carriage. She simply pressed a ring finger to the glass casing, and an unnaturally bright light began to illuminate the entire forest. The Queen rushed toward the flames she saw, as the Huntsman shadowed quickly behind her.

            A nasally greeting vibrated through the summer air. “Well, Regina, it’s been so long. To what do I owe this pleasure, dearie?” As the Queen walked carefully towards Rumpelstiltskin’s fire, she waved a hand over her lantern, dimming it so that the Huntsman and her round middle were left in the dark. Only her face could be seen in the shadows.

            “Rumpel, I heard you were still in the market for children, correct?” A pair of golden eyes met hers from a few feet away.

            The Dark One smiled, the light from the flames dancing off of the golden flecks in his jaw. “Oh no! Has one of the servant girls fallen on hard times?” He gave a wry wink and let out a chilling giggle. Regina inched cautiously closer towards the inquisitive scoundrel. The Huntsman, still hidden, held his breath.

            The Queen’s jaw clenched as Rumpelstiltskin’s hungry eyes began to scrutinize her body up and down. The beast’s eyes nearly tripled in size.

            “No, it’s not any servant girl…is it your Majesty? Your cheeks are rounder, and a cloak in this stuffy air? Remove your cloak, step into the light, dearie.” Regina rolled her eyes and obliged, the heavy fabric hitting the ground with a tired thud. The Huntsman stayed silent, fingers ready on his bow.

            The Queen walked around the fire, turning so that the almost-human could see her profile, and the small bump that was part of it. Rumpelstiltskin squealed with childish glee.

            “ _Why,_ your Majesty. What have you been up to these lonely months?” He skulked closer to her, eager waspy hands reaching out to touch her abdomen. The Huntsman began to flinch in the darkness. The Queen shuddered back before Rumpelstiltskin could put his hands on her body.

            “ _How_ this happened is none of your affair,” she snapped through clenched teeth. “Your _only_  concern is what’s to be done.”

            “Okay then. Let’s say I take this _burden_ off your hands, hmm?” He pranced around the fire enthusiastically; all thin limbs and exaggerated gestures. “What do I get out of it? The Queen’s bastard?” The Huntsman was nearly pushed over the edge by Rumpelstiltskin’s arrogance; he lined up his bow and arrow in the pitch black, until Regina glared at him quickly through the layers of the dark forest. The Queen then turned to face the monster before her.

            “I have a lock of Snow’s hair. God knows where she is now, as my Hunter failed me. You may never get ahold of the Princess, and isn’t she a key ingredient of your bottled ‘love’?” She held up a vial with a few intact strands of thick black hair inside it. Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes turned from gold to a blazing orange in anticipation. “Or is my ‘bastard’ not good enough?” The Dark One lurched towards the vial. She stuffed the prized container back into her décolletage. “Tsk, tsk. How can I trust you? It seems you’ll have to wait until the child is born. Oh, and if you tell anyone about my condition, you’ll wish _you_ were never born.”

            Rumpelstiltskin paused for several moments, hand resting on his chin. After contemplating his options, he flashed an eerie smile of sharp yellow teeth. “It pleases me to say, Regina, that I think we have an agreement. When the child is born, I _will_ be the first to know.” He vanished in a cloud of golden smoke, as the fire died down instantly. 

            The Queen snapped her fingers, and the lantern returned to its nearly unbearable brightness. The Huntsman shielded his eyes; his senses took a while to grow accustomed to the light. Regina began to wander towards the sounds of anxious horses.

            “Huntsman, maybe you could learn from the Dark One; how facilitative it could be to keep one’s promise.” She let out a weak, yet blood-curdling chuckle.

            “So you’re going to carry this child for nine months, and act as if was a simple fluke?” The Huntsman’s tone was high with accusation.

            “Yes, because that’s indeed what it is. Are you questioning my judgment, Huntsman? I ache for the fate of those who question my decisions. It’s not pretty.” The Huntsman wondered if it was possible to get frostbite from simple words.  “Now get me back to the palace. This parasite is leeching off all energy I have. I must rest.”

            The Huntsman lifted himself onto the chariot and started the horses with a soft crack of the reins.

            The horizon was still the color of tar, and it would be long before amber light flooded the forest. Regina plastered her body against the seat in silence.

            The Queen wondered what she had done, and if her child’s future was just as dark as the sky before her.

            She would deny these thoughts to her grave.

 


	4. Chapter 4

           “The steeds couldn’t devour this much,” Regina said matter-of-factly as she piled another plate with melon, candied ham, and a scone. “I’m completely ravenous, and then I still feel starved within an hour.”

            “I believe that’s what they call ‘eating for two’, Your Majesty.” The Genie’s face appeared at the end of the massive table spread in Regina’s private dining room.

            “I’m nothing but a host,” Regina muttered in between bites. Over the past twenty weeks, Regina’s growing frame became harder to conceal. A handful of her closest servants and guards were aware of the situation, but their habit of cowering whenever she entered a room seemed coincide with their unfaltering secrecy. None of the knowing servants knew their exact fate if they were to tell, but none of them desired to find out.

            “Have you gotten the memory charm ready?”

            She scoffed. “Of course I’ve conjured it. When are we to expect him?”

            “Any moment now, your Majesty.”

            “Good. Hopefully, he’ll be just as gullible as the others.” Recently, there had been reports from all palaces within a thousand miles. The towns’ doctors and midwives showing up in the depths of the forest confused as to who they were. Regina couldn’t help but to smirk at the news of these events.

            Regina lifted herself from the table, and made her way to the bedchamber.  Waiting for her was a bespeckled dwarf, his leather medical bag, and the Huntsman.

            “Well I’m glad there’s so much _freedom_ to come and go throughout _my_ palace.”

            “Your Majesty, this is Doc. He received your message.” The Queen cocked an eyebrow.

            “Then, may I ask, what the hell are you doing here, Huntsman?” The dwarf perked up in defense.

            “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, your Majesty, he simply guided me to your chambers,” the small man squeaked out. His voice was childish, but carried within it years of wisdom.

            “Of course. Now, if you would leave me, I’ll dress down to my petticoat,” both men bowed swiftly and made their way towards the door, “However, _you,”_ she hissed as a lone finger directed itself at the Huntsman, “ _stay._ ” The dwarf scuttled out of the room. The Huntsman glued himself to the spot where he stood.

            Regina lingered as she removed her cloak and her dress; the Huntsman began to sweat, wondering which organ she was planning to remove. The Queen glided closer to him, her breath hitting a tendon in his neck. He shuddered.

            “Tell me Huntsman, are you attached to this child?” He stayed silent. Her eyes smoldered themselves into his skin. “I see the way you stare at me, the way you stare at _this,”_ she laid her palm flat against the bulbous protrusion of her middle, “That soft look you get in your eye and on your face.” The Queen lowered her voice to a serpent-like whisper. “Don’t become a sheep, Huntsman. If you get attached to something, it’ll be ripped away, like an engorged leech. This baby belongs to Rumpelstiltskin, and you know that. You’re just too _weak_ to accept it _._ ”

            He would never know that Regina got the same look on her face when the baby kicked, or when the skin of her stomach flinched under her touch.

She retreated slowly and sat down on the edge of her bed. “You, go. And send him in.” The Huntsman was quiet, but his eyes spoke what his words could not: sadness, guilt, humiliation. Regina’s mouth twisted into an eerie grin.

            Moments later, measurements were taken, organs were prodded and poked; all things to which Regina had become accustomed within the past six months. One thing Regina was not accustomed to, however, was the curious expression on Doc’s face when he placed a stethoscope to her bare abdomen. He paused, used his breath to clean the device, and placed the glass end on her stomach once more. His tiny face was still wrinkled in a cocktail of inquiry, frustration, and concentration.

            The Queen propped herself up on her elbows. She shot the dwarf a wide-eyed look that begged him for an explanation.

            “Your Majesty, I’m going to give you these earpieces, and I want you to count how many beats you hear.” The tiny man held out the stethoscope. Regina grabbed the wooden earpieces like a child and jammed them into her own ears. Doc shifted the glass end around for a few moments, and then there it was: rapid, like a tapping metronome, constant, and unfaltering. It might’ve been the most promising sound Regina had ever heard. “I hear one. Just one,” Regina managed to sigh out.  Doc glided the stethoscope a few inches to the right. And there it was again, the beautiful tapping noise. Regina’s eyes grew as the reality of her condition trampled her like a runaway horse.

            “There are two,” she whispered.

            “Yes, your Majesty: there are two.” The Doc confirmed this statement as if it were a simple weather prediction. He put away his implements nonchalantly. Regina stayed stiff, as if she were in a casket, not her own bed.

            The Queen grabbed a vial of mint-green powder on a nearby table, and flung the contents on the Dwarf. He vanished instantly (in the next few hours, while walking deep in the Enchanted Forest, six brothers and a princess in hiding would find their leader in an unexplained stupor).

            When the broken and shocked Queen was totally alone, she wept. And yet, her rhythmic sobs seemed to calm the children inside her. 


	5. Chapter 5

           “Oh dearie; it seems like we are in a little predicament.” Rumpelstiltskin chopped the last word into tiny staccato bits for emphasis. “I knew there had to be more than one in there.” The Queen struck a icy glare, but her face soon twisted at the pain of another backache.

            “I’ve never known torture such as this.” She lowered her frame onto a chair at the large table, taking into consideration the new center of gravity. “You take both, and I’ll give you something more significant. Simple enough, Rumpel.” The Queen poured herself another cup of tea, and offered him a wickedly promising smile.

            “You’ll have to spell it out, your Majesty. I have a little knowledge of _significance_ ,” he motioned at his vast collection of riches, a sea of glittering aubergine and gold. He was met with a scoff and an eye roll.

            “ _Anything you want,_ if it’s within limits, of course.”

            “Are you sure about those conditions, Regina? My deals are permanent,” he turned from the spinning wheel he was so busy with, and sat down to face her, his expression sinking with solemnness, “Anything I want…now that’s a price, dearie.”

            “I just want them _gone_ ,” she hissed. She gave a resentful look to her huge figure (but Rumpelstiltskin saw something more; a slight trickle of sadness). “Every time I feel them writhe within me, every dress that rips, every ache I feel,” she swallowed, “like _little beasts_.”

            “Then tell me, your Majesty, why are you crying?” She looked at him, perplexed, as two fingers rose to her cheek. When she pulled back, they glistened.

            She gritted her teeth, and hissed out her words as if she were revealing some disturbing secret. “Just tell me what you want, Rumpelstiltskin.”

            He leaned down so that the two associates were parallel with each other. He wanted The Queen to feel his words under her skin. “I want my curse back. “ Regina’s neck perked up; she threw her gaze at him like a toxic dart. “I know your scheme. And I don’t want to suffocate in the bloodlust when your great plan crumbles underneath your feet.”

            “I don’t have it. If you _recall_ , I lost it in another one of your deals. Maleficent, Rumpel; she’s the one you want.” Her words punctuated, and her point made, she lifted her body (with some difficulty) from her seat.

            “And then what if I get it, hmm? You won’t be able to enact it. That’s what it’ll take, dearie. Your bastards, my curse.”

            “Oh, Rumpel, stop being so stubborn. Is this a practical joke of some sort?” She giggled patronizingly.

            “Indeed, it is not,” he stated, with a voice like stone, “My curse shall not be put to any ill intent, or you will be stuck with those kiddies, forever. You _will_ be a mother. You know the fate of those who break the deal.”

            “Are you mad? If some poor sixteen-year-old peasant came here asking for your assistance, you would simply ask for a few grains of rice! You do realize that I am your Queen.”

            “And you do realize I will always be more powerful, dearie. No matter how hard you try to melt me down. The curse, or nothing. Make your choice,” he rasped out, forcing ta smirk upon his lips.

            “I will destroy Snow. And that is the most certain way to do so,” she turned to strut out the door, but not before blurting out, “And as for the deal; it’s nothing but dust now.” She tried to swallow her fear, her shock. How long it would take to accept the consequences of what she had just done? Regina quivered underneath the weight of her new future. She turned her back to exit in a truly royal style.

            “I won’t lose a second of sleep, your Majesty,” she could her echoing down the golden corridor.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

     All she could do was simply squirm. Regina’s muscles felt as if they were rubber; continuously being pulled apart and snapped back. During the pain, her eyes were shut tight, fireworks dancing beneath her lids. During the release, they flashed open. She whimpered in horror as she saw her bottom half. She was surrounded by two midwives clothed in a sullen brown, making the bright red of the pooling blood at her thighs even more terrifying.

     “Now, your Majesty, I need you to listen to me,” the midwife’s grating cockney voice split through Regina’s ear. Was it she or the midwife who was screaming? Regina could only feel the pain in her body; she could only hear the rushing in her mind. Seconds felt like hours. How long had she been confined to this bed?

     “When you feel the next one, I need you bear down on your belly for me.” Regina could feel the pain and pressure building, like a bullet in the barrel of a gun.

      And there it was, the twisting, as if someone was wringing her body dry. She gritted her teeth and bore down. It was only seconds before she fell back. Something sounded like streaming water, and a white haze softened the room. She opened her mouth, but was surprised to find herself unable to speak. Regina could only hear trickles of conversation.

      “She’s losing a bit of blood, Myrna, go check if we’re losing her then. Give her ice water,” the younger of the two midwives poured a pitcher of the crackling liquid and pressed it to Regina’s lips. The older woman spoke up quietly. “I’m afraid their little souls won’t live to see the sunlight. God have mercy on them.” She crossed herself.

      “She’s in n’ out, ma’am. We’ve got to get them babies delivered quick,” Myrna shouted. Regina tried to babble something, but her efforts proved vain.

     “Your Majesty, I know you’re tired, but you got to hear me,” she looked at the pale and muttering Queen, “Bare down just one more time.” All Regina heard was the bearing down part, and in her stupor, she managed to do as she was told.

     It wasn’t long before she felt a soft weight on her chest, and looked down to see a tiny blue mummy of a child, and then another. They both remained eerily silent and still.

     And trying her damnedest, Regina spoke right before completely fading away.

     “Cry…for mother. Baby…cry,” she let out a tiny whimper, the biggest exhibition of despair she could offer, and her world slowly melted into darkness.

* * *

     “Your Majesty…Queen Regina, are you alright, Your Majesty?” A tiny voice echoed as Regina gradually opened her eyes, as a delicate fair-haired woman offered a warm smile.

     “Fiona?” Her voice was rough and weakened, and her forehead and cheeks were drenched.

     “I’m so sorry to wake you, but as I was fixing the fire, you began to scream and cry. I am terribly sorry.” Regina darted up, back resting on the black iron headboard.

     “It’s no matter. You’re dismissed.” With a curtsy and the patter of light feet, Regina was alone with her thoughts. Naturally, her hand drifted to her stomach.

     It was still as obtrusive as it had ever been, and she felt a strong kick in response. Could they feel her? Did they just _hear_ her?

     Regina’s eyes darted back and forth to ensure she was completely in solace. “Babies, do you hear me,” she tested in a quiet mousey voice, and sat in silence for a few moments afterward.

     And there it was. A resounding _thump_ against the underside of her skin.

     “Well, don’t get too comfortable,” she huffed; this time louder and more caustic, “nine months are all you two are getting in this palace. You have caused enough trouble for me as it is.” She was met with no response. “Oh this is ridiculous. You can’t hear me. I’m talking to nothing but empty space, like I’m just _mad_ or something,” she giggled nervously. _Thump thump._ Her eyes expanded in a child-like curiosity.

     A few moments later the knocker tapped rapidly against her door. “Who is calling?”

     “The Heartless Huntsman; I need to talk to you.” She could make out the sharpness of his words, even if the barrier muffled them.

     “With that tone? Remember yourself, and go do your job.” Honestly, the yelling between the door was becoming a little uncouth.

     “I can only do my job if you and a flat surface are present, _Your Majesty_ ,” she could hear the gritting teeth. “I got a scroll from Rumpelstiltskin.”

     “What?! Is he some sort of mad idiot? Come in, for God’s sake!” Regina disregarded the disheveled state of her hair and face; the Huntsman was unwanted in her affairs, Rumpel knew that, that spiteful imp. “And watch yourself carefully; I may as well execute you for your crude manner.” The tall figure burst in, and stopped at what he saw.

     “You look ill, here,” he reached across for his satchel.

     “Oh never mind the peppermint; I didn’t sleep well,” she snapped. “Now, why are you so insistent to offend, annoy, and intrude upon your Queen?”

     “Your Majesty, you _cannot_ raise this child,” his voice was drawn in, and his eyes seemed to radiate the cold.

     “I’m not going to,” she said almost too optimistically. Her face dropped. “And it’s not ‘child’.”

     “What?” He cocked an eyebrow.

     “There are _two._ Twins.” She looked down and placed a resting hand on her belly.

     His eyes grew wide, the awe and fear seeping from his face. “ _Oh my god._ What do you intend to do, your Majesty?”

     “Something...”, her voice quivered. “Sit down Huntsman, you’re making me nervous, flittering about like that.” He quickly found a red ottoman and promptly fell onto to it.

     The Hunter lowered his face and looked at her, as if he was trying to bore into her.  He swallowed what appeared to be fear, and let out a long sigh. “With all due respect, your Majesty, you can’t be a mother to this child. These _children_. You simply can’t.” The thick tension in the silent air almost demanded an explanation. “You ripped my heart out, without-“

     “That was your own doing, Huntsman.” Her words were starting to sting with agitation.

     “You wanted me to kill an innocent child-“

     " _You will not, you will never understand!_ ” It took a moment for Regina to realize she was screaming. She flung out a wrist and the ottoman flew back, flipping the Huntsman with it. She raised her arm in hopes of executing something more sinister, but was interrupted by her body’s spontaneous twitch. _Thump._

     “Oof,” she huffed out. At her pained noise, the Huntsman rose to his feet in mere seconds.

     “Ok?”

     “Yes. One of them just kicked me in some organ; I don’t know. They seem to be active today. They’ve gotten so much stronger. Their kicking used to tickle, and now it’s just a blunt beating.” She sighed.

     “Your Majesty, if you’d let me, my mother had eleven children, I know something that may help.”

     “If you know what you’re doing, and if it works.” She sounded exasperated, but her intimidation still rung clear through her words.

     “May I?” He motioned his hand to the bed beside her. She raised an eyebrow, but her face then fell.

     “Go ahead. It _is_ a flat surface, isn’t it?” The Huntsman ran a hand through his hair and gulped.

     “That was rude. I apologize, your Majesty. I’m actually surprised I’m still alive.” He slowly sat down on the plush bed.

     “I’m surprised as well,” she muttered. “Now do whatever it is you’re going to do.”

     Out of his satchel the Huntsman withdrew a mortar and pestle; chipped, rocky and mollified with age. He also withdrew the peppermint leaves, a large handful of a dried purple flower, and his canteen.

      He began to grind the two ingredients and the water together, and Regina’s eye lingered on his muscles with every pound into the mix. There was also fact he was doing this _for her._

     “Your Majesty, if I may, I need to see your,” he waved a hand in front of his torso.

     Regina burrowed deep into the covers, and lifted up her nightgown, so that her bottom half was covered and only her stomach could be seen.

     The Huntsman rubbed his hands together vigorously and blew on them multiple times. He put a small amount of the grey-green paste of his hands and rubbed them together.  “Let me know if my hands are too cold.” He leaned forward; she shuddered back.

     “You’re not going to touch me, are you Huntsman?” Her squeaking voice sounded more fearful than disgusted.

     “Why do you think I had you bare your stomach?!”

     “I thought you would just sprinkle some holy water and be done with it,” she burst out, “Not _rub me down_ like a swine.” _Thump thump._

     She hissed as one child assaulted her…liver, maybe? “Ok, just do it.” She winced, eyes closed in anticipation. Two large palms splayed themselves on her middle. _Thump._

     “Oh, wow. Was that them?” He began to knead softly at her belly.

      “Yes, _that_ was them.” She was irritated, not awed as he was.

      After initially tensing at his touch, Regina finally released and let her body sink into the bed. Her head rested haphazardly on the headboard. She felt The Hunter rubbing her torso and absorbed the redolent air in the room.

     She exhaled. “Lavender,” she hissed with her breath.

     “Yes, soothes the nerves. For both you and these little buggers.” He was perky, almost if peddling the remedy.

     “ _Don’t_ call them that. They are simply to be known as ‘them’. Understand?”

     “Yes, your Majesty,” he muttered, intensely concentrated on the massage.

     All Regina could do was _feel_. She could feel his hands on her, soothing their children (“their children”; she reminded herself not to use that phrase; it implied something so _domestic_ ) to an easy slumber. But she also felt something with more weight, deep inside her core. And it was something she hadn’t felt for years. It was warm and radiant, yet she couldn’t place it. Someone finally was concerned enough to care for her on their own free will. Regina reclined and let these once-familiar tastes sink in. Tears began to make their tracks down her cheeks.

     “Ok, all done. They should leave you be for a few hours.” He wiped his hands on his trousers and gave her a weak smile.

     His eyes were _so_ blue.

     Something possessed the Queen. She lunged forward (despite her burgeoning belly between them), and pressed her lips to his.

     Just for a few moments, she was completely lost in someone else. This kiss was more than just the hungry lust their usual advances encompassed. Regina pulled back, eyes still wet.

     “ _Get out. Now. Leave,_ ” she hissed venomously, her eyes focusing on the fireplace, and refusing to meet his.

      He packed up his belongings, and left.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

           “I just need you here,” she whispered, voice breaking, eyes sparkling amber with tears. Inside the framed glass before her, an elderly and care-worn man was pacing aimlessly around a large chamber; a suite that in reality was a tiny box.  He was simply a wise soul aching to burst through a small, brilliant, and unattainable prison.

            “Oh, Daddy, what do I do?” The Queen withdrew a black lace handkerchief from her sleeve and tried to wipe away any evidence of weakness. She flicked her wrist, and the miniature old gentleman was gone from view. At her vanity, she burrowed into the crook of her elbows and discreetly wept, mousey sniveling barely breaking the stillness of the vast quarter.

            “It’s happening again, Your Majesty. You’ve turned into a crumbling mess. That’s the fifth time this week.”  The Genie’s face danced across the room.

             “Get the hell out of my sight.”  The Queen lifted her head up slowly, eyes red and swollen.

             “You’re starting to feel something, aren’t you? I knew those little bastards would weasel their way into your head. I certainly never saw you as maternal.” His half-taunts, half-truths bounced off the rocky walls.

             “ _Silence!_ ” Regina’s scream melded with the sound of shattering glass, a golden jewelry box causing glittering shards to rain over the floor.

            Regina’s nerves were beginning to fray, and she shuddered to think that her subjects might soon discover that fact.

            With shaking hands, she wiped her eyes and grabbed the small bell on her vanity. The soft jingle sang through the corridor outside her bedroom.

            “How I can help you, your Majesty?” Fiona’s tiny voice hardly permeated the chamber.

            “Run me a bath, would you? Put that lavender oil in. And get someone to clean this atrocity up.” Regina carelessly waved a finger toward the pile of glass that was shooting random bursts of light up, causing the women’s faces to glow.

            “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

            Steam seethed off the heat of the claw-foot tub in a constant motion. Oil left a soft and welcoming sheen floating on top of the water. The room was weighted with the soft, yet biting scent of lavender and mint; Regina consciously realized that the aroma would forever remind her of her fragility. This tiny self-discovery nearly made her scream in a confused rage. Stiffly and reluctantly, she forced the life out all of these thoughts and focused on the water before her.

            Regina gracefully (as graceful someone of her size could manage) lowered herself into the water, into her sanctuary. Warmth and buoyancy melted away all the aches of her body, loosening the tension it had acquired over the past weeks.

Then there was the smell; that damn smell, so delicious and so heartbreaking.

            For the first time in six months, Regina let go. She finally got her prized moment of clarity. And as much as she hated the reality, she had to share this instant with someone, someone specific, with unbelievably deep blue eyes.

            She grabbed the silver bell languidly, as if her arm were made of lead. She lingered, still veering from the conversation that was about to take place. And with three delicate rings, the decision was made. The bell’s chimes sounded as blasting as a judge’s gavel.

            Within two minutes, heavy leather footsteps pounded into the secluded part of her bedchamber.

            A low and tense voice tunneled through the door. “Your Majesty, you called me to your _powder room_? Has there been an emergency?”

            A long, cumbersome breath escaped through the Queen’s lips. “I know; it’s less than conventional. Just come in; I don’t give a damn about decorum right now.”

            Slowly, he cracked the door. Nobody, other than Daniel (and she was but a child back then), had seen her this exposed, this raw. She was naked, hair wet, and looked like a child without her rouge or kohl. Her pregnant middle added some years; but the otherwise-innocent appearance would be shocking to anyone. Judging by his expression, the Huntsman was as fearful and surprised as most.

            Carefully, (like he was trying to avoid some booby-trap), he sat on the wiry black chair standing in the corner of the dim lavatory. “Well, this is intimate,” he scoffed nervously, strictly keeping his eyes off of Regina. “Are they still bothering you? I can smell the mint and the flowers.”

            Regina’s arms surrounded her belly, and she kept her eyes glued to the oily water. She plotted out her next move silently.  And as meticulous as she could have been, she couldn’t help but to let her words burst through her mouth, tainting the awkward quiet between them. “I don’t love you.” It was cold, but it was honest. The Huntsman jerked up, lips parting to speak. “I know you don’t love me either. You can’t. You can’t feel a thing.”

            “With all due respect-,” he attempted, but was silenced by the Queen’s raised hand.

            “I don’t want you to love me. I don’t need to be loved. It only causes weakness; it thins out the skin, like a _disease._ And I’ve worked far too hard to let some illusion destroy my world.”

            He stayed still.

            “But, on the other hand, you are attached to _these_ ,” she began to rub small circles over her stomach, “And I don’t know what you’re doing exactly. It’s not love, it can’t be; but it’s _something_. Something in your head, something primitive, something tedious.”

            The Hunter’s eyes didn’t leave the floor before him. They dilated as he tried to soak in the truth thrown out in front of him. “Protectiveness,” he whispered.

            Regina’s voice became hushed to match the man’s. “I suppose so.” The world simply froze for a few moments. “Come kneel down beside the bath, Huntsman. You’ll be able to watch them move.”

            Eyebrows raised, he dropped to his knees. Regina didn’t smile or look him in the eyes. Any forced smile or feigned kindness would promise something more than what she ever could desire. Although he was a damned liar, giving him false hope would abase Regina to his level. With no words or warmth, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her middle.  Her hand was entwined with his and she applied a gentle pressure, the flesh caving in for a brief second.

            “I hope you realize,” her eyes were tightly shut, head thrown back in exasperation, and barely whispering, “that you mean _nothing_ to me.” She pressed his hand into her stomach once more.  Her skin began to wax and wane with the movement of the children inside of her; outlines of tiny limbs shown through the vast canvas of her belly. The Huntsman’s eyes were huge, but unmoving. 

            “Ever since you did what you did, I can’t cry.”

            Water sloshed as Regina sat up in alarm.

            “And there are times I need to. Times like this, when I think I feel something, phantom tingles of the love I used to experience. But then I realize that now I’m just _dry_ , like a well in an abandoned kingdom.” He rested his head on the edge on the tub, palm still splayed across Regina’s middle. “And I _could_ love these children…so much. Ever since my family abandoned me, I’ve needed something to feel whole again. And these children, they could be that final piece. But you took that away. Why have you done this, Regina? Why the hell did you do this to me?”

            “Because, Huntsman, you _broke your word._ ” The accusation droned from her lips, stinging him like frostbite, draining him like hypothermia.

            “I’ll never do it again. I never want to do it again. Now if you excuse me, I have another promise to make. One that will never be broken.” He sunk his head in deeper towards the water. Regina tensed, waiting for his next action. She shuddered violently when he pressed his lips to her torso, and the grainy stubble fought against smooth olive skin.  Curious as to what he was doing, she stayed silent, eyes blown wide.

            “ _I will always keep you safe,”_ he whispered into the flesh of her womb, leaving a soft kiss on top of his children in goodbye. Slowly, he lifted himself up, and ran his hands through his hair in concentration.

            “I’m sorry for intruding on your bath, my Queen.”

            “As you should be, Huntsman.” He bowed, and exited calmly.

            Regina simply sunk deeper into the water, watching her children dance inside of her.

            


	8. Chapter 8

     She was eating her evening meal when it happened. Regina felt the skin of her stomach flinch and grow taut for a brief second. Then came pressure. A gentle squeeze from the inside, not painful but certainly not expected. She placed a hand on her middle, backing away from the table with her face contorted in shock. Eagerly, she grabbed the bell beside her and rang it with a fast aggression.

     Fiona scurried in, pleasant expression fixed on her face. At the sight of Regina’s apparent surprise, her cheerful demeanor was soon replaced by a look of frantic concern. “Your Majesty, you alright?” she huffed, “Oh it’s the babies, isn’t it? They’re coming, aren’t they?”

     “Has the midwife been given her payment?” Fiona nodded firmly.

     “Then go _get her,”_ the Queen bit out.

      And then there it was again, the constriction, as if a boa was wrapped around her insides. Frowning, she looked down at her stomach, “Your timing is _awful._ I have yet to discover _what the hell_ I’m going to do with you two.” The sound of her gnashing teeth sounded like grating stone to her own ears.

     And in that moment, the Huntsman chose to enter the room. _Timing must come from the father_ , she thought.

     He ran in, sliding on his heels. “I saw Fiona running, and I could only assume,” his eyes expanded in fear, “Oh Gods. This is it isn’t it?” Regina was doubled over, but lifted her head long enough to offer him a burning glare. He rushed over her to her side, reaching to help her stand.

      “Don’t touch me,” she forced his hands away, “I’m with child, not a cripple.” She swallowed her warning as her body was wrung from the inside out, and she fell back into the chair.

      “Oh for Gods' sake, Regina.” He scooped her up from behind and lifted her bridal style.

      “ _How dare you_. Have you forgotten your low and parasitic place in this-,“ she whimpered as another weak squeeze of muscles embraced her.  He ran her to her bedchamber, the weight of her pregnancy a feather compared to the weight of his kills. He gently placed her on the bed as she writhed in discomfort.

      “You have no idea the consequences of your brashness, Huntsman. Get out,” she hissed. He exited promptly.

     Within the next minute, an elderly midwife was escorted to the room by two gigantic guards. She looked purely afraid, but when the woman saw her Queen, she rolled up her sleeve, and professionalism took hold. Fiona quickly came to Regina’s side, unlacing layers of constrictive clothing. She was left in nothing but her petticoat, which was soon lifted up to bare her stomach.

     In the buzzed madness of the past few moments, Regina had failed to realize the pain had stopped abruptly and completely.

     The midwife palmed and pushed at the Queen’s midsection to determine each baby’s location. The midwife sighed, and Regina could see her shoulders drop in relief.

     “Well, these babies ain’t coming today, Your Majesty. They’re too high up now. And those small pains were just your body practicing for the real thing.” Her crude woodland accent burned Regina’s ears.

     “ _Practicing?”_ She winced in disbelief.

     “Yes, Your Majesty; happens to every lady expecting a child. But it means they’ll be coming soon. And I have to recommend you stay in bed until they do.” Regina jerked up from the bed.

     “Are you _ill?,”_ she snapped, _“_ What do you think I am? Some fat, lazy housewife that can simply lay around being fed grapes and fanned with palm fronds?”

     “With all due respect, Your Majesty, if you don’t go on your bed rest, your heart’ll give out, or these children’ll be stillborn. I must ask you to take care of yourself this way.”

     Regina fell back and looked up in desperation. “Ok, fine. Just get back to your chamber.”

     The midwife curtsied. “Yes, your Majesty. But before I forget,” she hesitated, “If you experience this again, the best thing is tea made with lavender flowers. It calms the children like no other remedy. “

     “So I’ve heard,” she sighed. As both her maid and midwife exited, she burrowed deep into her covers. The midwife’s words pounded through her head like a hammer driving through rock; _‘But it means they’ll be coming soon’._ Her heart got offbeat and she shuddered. She simply had no solution, and the path ahead looked bleak. The only person capable of helping her had cast her off from his services weeks ago. But she’d be damned if she wouldn’t give it a second try.

     From her bedside table, she withdrew a purple quill and a good-sized piece of parchment. In the bright and flickering candlelight, she began to construct a letter; it was one of the two times in her life she ever had to plead for something. The first was for an innocent man’s life…this was for a distraught and pregnant woman’s last option.

     After quickly scrawling down her request, she rang her bell four times succinctly. A burly guard came and took the letter silently. She lowered herself down, quieted the thoughts torturing her head, and closed her eyes.

     That night, more pain came, and the Queen moved violently in her sleep.  Hushed whimpers escaped her lips and she twisted in pain.

     When she awoke, memories of her eventful night before were grainy and faded with slumber. Regina could, however, recall two things through her discomfort: the aroma of a cup of sweet-smelling tea being pressed to her lips…and the sensation of a familiarly rough and unshaven face pressing a kiss to her cheek. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the very long hiatus! College, guys, college. But here's a pretty crappy update, enjoy.

           “Well, isn’t this just _cozy_.”

            Regina gasped as she was startled awake, and sat upright from her pillows. Her face clenched with anger when she saw the gold-flecked grin sitting in the chair before her.

            “What the _hell_ are you doing here? ” the bed-ridden Queen spat out.

            “Tsk. Now that’s no way to treat a houseguest,” he rose and began to wander around the large chamber, “And _certainly_ no way for a lady, much less a Queen to speak.” He plopped onto the corner of the bed, getting a small thrill out of Regina’s seething.  “And rumors are suggesting our Majesty is ill, confined to her bed it seems. Hmm, I wonder if the people will ever find out,” he placed an unwelcome hand on Regina’s distended abdomen, “just exactly how _ill_ their Queen is.”

            Regina moved to slap his hand away, but only ended up hitting her own stomach, and getting a strong kick from one of the children in response.

            “I got your note, dearie. I have to say, there was a certain air of _desperation_ ,  hmm?”

            “Don’t be so smug. I’ve made many deals from you before. If you came here just to mock me, you can transform yourself back to the dark cave you call a home.”

            “Oh now, love, I came here to _help_ ,” he rose from the bed and began to pace, “and what kind of gentleman would I be to deny service to a widow great with child. Correction: _children_.”

            Regina scoffed from her pillows. “If you consider yourself even a fraction of a gentleman…,” she laughed, “then you would be undeniably wrong in any circumstance.”

            “Be as that, may,” he glared, golden eyes narrowed into critical slits, “you’re still in a situation that only _I_ can remedy. And I’ve thought many hours, dearie, and I want to. The curse is still the curse, even in your unstable hands…”

            “I am _not_ unstable, I-“

            “Regina, you’ve wavered back and forth on this deal for seven months. Women, as lovely as they are, are indecisive, unstable creatures, especially those in your…condition.” The Queen’s mouth remained shut, though her brown eyes burned amber with rage. “As I was saying, you’re going to enact the curse. It’s your destiny. And I’m not going to let you give that up.”

            Regina swallowed, contemplating his frightening truths. “I made my own destiny,” she whispered solemnly. Although she thought her words were honest, they still caught in the back of her throat.

            “Believe me, dearie, that you did not. You may think you did, you may think a lot of things, but there is so little that you actually _know_ about who you are.”

Regina’s brow furrowed, and she was able to feel tiny toes tickling her ribs. Her mind refocused on the central issue of this unpleasant call. Rumpelstiltskin seemed to draw the words from her mind before they were even spoken.

            “Speaking of fate, destiny, and the like, a young couple came begging to me sometime last week. You see, a woodsman and his tragically barren wife came looking for some magical solution to their unfortunate circumstances. “

            “And…?”

            “I told them about a young unmarried woman of royal blood that has found herself in unfortunate circumstances. They seemed pretty keen on the idea of getting two for the price of one.”

            “So that’s it? I give birth, and then they’re gone?” She quirked an eyebrow in suspicion.

            “That’s it dearie, unless of course, you change your mind.”

            Regina laughed away the suggestion. However, Rumpelstiltskin’s face adopted a type of softness Regina had never seen before. He stood at her bed

            “You know, I remember when your mother was pregnant with you,” he smiled, and his former apprentice cocked her head, startled. “She didn’t take up nearly as much space, considering you were the sole pup in her litter, so to speak,” he giggled as Regina scowled, pulling up her sheets to cover her figure, “But her hair got curly just like yours, and she was absolutely radiant. She was beautiful.,” he paused, “Pregnancy suits you both. Motherhood, however, does not.”

            “Well, at least, I’m the better woman for admitting it, and giving them away.”

            “And on that, we’re in agreement. I just hope you don’t regret your decision.” His omniscience disappeared with him in a cloud of smoke.

            Regina reached for her bell, but discovered there was no need.

            “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I was coming to see how you felt today, and I heard his voice. I’m sorry for intruding.” He lingered in the doorframe.

            “Yes. Well, you’ve made your mistake. I guess since you didn’t get involved you deserve clemency. And these two,” she rested her hand on her belly, “are going to be taken care of. He found two willing adopters.”

            “And what did he ask for in return?” His eyes grew wide and hardened in aching suspicions.

            “Nothing. The only reason he gave was that ‘motherhood doesn’t suit me’,” she looked surprisingly dejected.

            “And with all due respect, My Queen, you agree, don’t you?”

            The bedridden woman perked up and shook the insecurity off of her face.

            “Of course, you oaf. If anything, these new parents are a relief. I’m ready to be done with this whole ordeal.”

            The Huntsman approached carefully, not to startle her like some skittish animal, not to encroach on her preciously vast amount of personal space. “And do you think they’ll be here soon?”

            “What a personal question, Hunter. But yes, I’m the size of a small palace, I continue to have the false birth pains, and they’ve both sunk lower, if you _must_ know.”

            “You’re not a small palace, and if it offers any solace for your discomfort, you’re still the fairest, Your Majesty.”

            Regina let out an indignant huff.  “Yes, well, don’t you have some deer or squirrel, or some other pest to take care of?”

            “I’ll take that as a suggestion. Good day, Your Majesty. Stay well.” With a curt nod, he left Regina alone with her buzzing conscience.

            As her thoughts undesirably revolved around the Huntsman, she gnawed at her lip and her hand lingered on her belly, her children languidly rolling under her palm.

 


End file.
